Solar Opposites

Wallstronauts, as we stand

on the edge of this perilous journey,

I struggled with the right words to inspire you,

but then I remembered Gene Hackman's speech from Crimson Tide,

which I had to watch with my shitty ex-boyfriend

who got rejected from the Navy because of his lazy elbow

and addiction to huffing Porta-Potty cleaner.

We constitute the first

and last line of defense against Yumyulack.

I expect and demand you do your very best,

and if you can't,

that strange sensation you'll be feeling

is my boot in your tiny ass.

-Go, Bama! - Roll Tide.

Zero Wallians died to bring us this info.

Now we believe Yumyulack will be gone all day tomorrow

at Panera University.

He's helping them develop a new caffeinated lemonade

that will only put you in a coma.

Listen up, this Golden Girls watch is our countdown clock.

When Bea Arthur's sexy-ass leg hits 0800,

we launch no matter what.

Yeah!

Tomorrow we get big,

but tonight we celebrate the end of the little era.

Hit it, DJ Marshmello.

Is that really Marshmello?

Nah, it's just a dude with a Lucky Charms stuck to his head,

but his beats hit, right?

Smells good. What ya grilling?

-Salmon planks. -Since when do we have salmon?

Since a crow dropped a piece of sushi in the sandbox.

-Eat up. -Mm, yum.

Ugh.

Are we rushing this launch?

There's so much we don't know.

That sneaky little alien shitbag

said he was setting booby traps for us.

Please, see that spilled cherry Fun Dip?

It's actually grape-flavored rat poison.

He's not gonna get us with that.

Yeah, but the bedroom is messier than ever.

Who knows what he hid out there?

It's a mess because Jesse and Yumyulack are doing

"No Laundry November" to raise money for dual penis disorder.

Sounds rough, but not as rough

as diving into a dangerous trap-laden room.

We don't have a choice.

Our launch window's tighter than a Hollister romper.

We have to launch tomorrow.

Look at them. They could all die out there.

-I pray to Jesse that-- -Hey, they'll make it.

If you wanna have faith, have it in me.

Ringo, you get some of that yard salmon?

No, not for me. I filled up on cricket.

Plus, I need to study my maps again.

It has to be perfect tomorrow.

Will you two Anxious Anitas relax?

Everything's gonna be fine.

Nothing can stop us now.

Oh, God. What the hell?

It stinks like a Doberman's asshole.

Wallstronaut, what is happening?

Who the fuck thought it was a good idea

to feed us salmon that was dropped on the ground

by a dirty old crow?

- - Oh!

Okay, yeah, I guess it sounds gross when you say it like that.

Oh, my God, we poisoned the whole crew.

Did anyone not eat the salmon?

Not me but, hey, these guys are tough.

-Maybe they'll bounce back. -

I just blew out my asshole.

-It's on the ground. -

Oh, I slipped and fell on my own asshole!

We are launching this ship today.

With what crew?

'Cause ours is brown-blasting into Monopoly thimbles.

Us! We're the leaders of the Wall.

It should have been us the whole time,

and now fate and salmonella have brought us to this moment.

It's too dangerous. You can't risk it.

Think about Pezlie.

She won't be safe until we're fucking big.

Guys, we can do this.

We still have our pilot.

Come to think of it, The Duke,

why were you the only one who didn't eat the sushi?

What are you saying, The Montez?

You think I sabotaged the mission? How fucking dare you?

I've given my life to the Wall.

You've taken a lot as well.

So have you taken a lot also!

Hey, hey, hey, that is really bad grammar,

and now is not the time.

Look, Cherie's right. It's up to us, but we are not a whole crew.

That's why the B-Team's been training with the A-Team all along.

The B-Team? Those weirdo fuck-ups are ticking time bombs.

Uh, they're right over there.

-Hey. -Yeah, I know.

It's not a reveal for me.

I've been staring at them this whole time.

-Fuck you! -Who the hell is on the B-Team?

Nomi, the Wall's foremost expert in Yumyulack.

I know all there is to know about that big blue cum stain.

Plus, I built the ship's computer out of spare parts

and an LED screen from a Horizon: Zero Cavities electric toothbrush.

But she seems normal.

Guys, check out my new Yumyulack tattoo.

His eyes are my titties.

Watch, I can make it look like he's reading.

Woo, look at that.

Next is our navigator Chip Ozmonski.

People call me Oz,

and all of y'all know I should have been on the A-team

'cause I'm about to fuck this mission in its A-hole.

Oz, relax. Getting too emotional could trigger mission psychosis,

like Michael Biehn in The Abyss.

That shit ain't happening to the Wizard of Oz.

If anything, this bitch right here is gonna get it.

And this is Walter, the muscle.

He's constantly shaving his head, and he never talks.

He writes everything on a notepad

like that kid in Little Miss Sunshine.

Alright, crappy loser understudies, saddle up.

It's time to save the people of the Wall.

Seventeen...

16,

-15... -Mama.

...14, 13,

12, 11, 10...

-Wait, I forgot something. -What the fuck? There's no time.

-Never mind, I found it. - Seven...

-Oh, that's mature, asshole. - ...six...

...five, four,

three, two, one!

Are we sure the spark plug will shatter the glass?

We're about to find out.

It's working. Course set for niner-two-niner.

This is awesome. I feel great.

No mission psychosis for this bad motherfucker.

-You hear me, Walter? -

Looks like we're headed straight for the TV stand.

Shrink Ray dead ahead.

Oh, my God, at this rate, we could be big in an hour.

That's like just like two episodes of Sex Lives of College Girls.

- -Ah! What was that?

-Might have been an air pocket. -Do bedrooms have that?

I'm getting some drag on the left wing.

Anyone got a visual?

Maybe it was Yumyulack's fan.

No, no way. He doesn't like to share the breeze with Jesse.

It's usually stationary.

Well, today it's fucking oscillating.

-Get us out of its path. -I'm trying!

Maybe the pupa can help us.

He's too busy with some sort of important sci-fi business.

Oh, hey there, sailor.

Looks like you and your burly cousins

all got stuck in that dishwasher.

- -We're losing a wing.

I can maybe use the current to get us to Jesse's bed.

I'm aiming for the minion pillow.

-Which minion is it? -I don't know, Kevin?

-That doesn't look like Kevin. -Which one says banana?

They all say banana!

-Crash positions! -

Onion volcano!

-Looks like Kevin saved our ass. -It was Bob.

Both wings are fucked, but everything else seems intact

except it's wet for some reason.

Yeah, shit, that was me.

Sorry, dudes, I blasted a bunch of piss when we crashed.

This is more than just one man's urine.

Something's off.

Crap. Remember that big box that blocked the Wall?

We thought Yumyulack finally pulled the trigger

on that Hoda Kotb body pillow,

but we were wrong.

I think Jesse got a new mattress.

I feel like I'm becoming the "points out the front window and yells" guy,

but what the hell is that?

We're on a fucking water bed!

The crash must have triggered a wave towards the headboard!

Everyone strap in now!

Deploy the wheels!

What the fuck are you doing? You're heading right for it!

-You're going to kill us! -Goddammit, man, you gotta trust me.

No, I don't!

Oh, fuck! Oh, shit! I got mission psychosis.

I know I said I wouldn't get it, but deep down, I knew I would.

- -Shut up!

Who said that? I think I'm going blind

from the mission psychosis thing I mentioned.

Calm down. You are freaking out!

Fuck your mother! We're all gonna die right here on this--